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Description
Another (sorta)Christmas pthing( one more after this, due tomorrow-heh).

As for the order- top-left,top-right, bottom.

And more story text to go along with it. And, fuck is it long.
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Kick.

Kick.

Kick.

At the third kick, this time to her already overtaxed bladder, Lydia Molina woke up, after what seemed like a mere five minutes of sleep, although the clock revealed it had been four hours in total. It was a paradox; Lydia was always so tired nowadays, yet she could never get a good night's sleep; what with all the heartburn, and being unable to get comfortable, and the constant kicking, it was a miracle she got any sleep at all.

Lydia propped herself up in bed, as she yawned widely and stretched, her eyes watering. After she finished yawning, she managed to force one green eye open, so she'd be able to see her way down the hall towards the bathroom, and in the process, caught a glimpse of her husband Marco. He was still asleep, and why wouldn't he be? It was barely past six o' clock on a Wednesday morning, and seeing as the two were both moderately successful authors, neither of them had any office to go to, or classes to teach( anymore at any rate, thank God; Lydia's first bestseller had hit shelves two months previously, coinciding with the start of her maternity leave, and just in time too; she didn't think she could have taken another day of teaching a bunch of stuck-up little pissants and dumb jocks the values of Victorian poetry, all the while dealing with the rigors of being seven months pregnant with twins. It had just been too much.). He was curled up, apparently hugging his pillow again, and a thin strand of drool, barely visible in the early rays of dawn, was working its way down his chin. Typical; Lydia loved her husband dearly, he was brilliant and caring, but he was just so... goofy sometimes.

Lydia swung her legs around the edge of the bed, probing for her slippers, but failing to find them, she simply decided to leave them, and clambered out of bed awkwardly. As she did so, Marco slept sill, but another member of their little(not for too much longer, she hoped) family stirred. Their siamese cat, Buttons, with a grace and swiftness that far outmached her tired, pregnant owner, leapt out of bed, landing silently on the green carpet, and followed close on her heels, hoping to be fed.

As soon as Lydia shuffled half-blindly onto the ice-cold, bare ,wooden floorboards of the hall, she regretted being unable to get her slippers, but her view of the floor was greatly impeded at the present time, and her ability to bend over for a look similarly so. At any rate, the search was wasting precious seconds, and she had an urgent need to meet, which she desperately hoped to meet in time, as she certainly didn't want to have to wash her pajamas again. On her way down the hall, she passed by the newly furbished nursery with its door agape, in wich stood two matching cribs, one magenta, the other blue, side by side beneath a star mobile, which, when powered on, would spin slowly, and emit a soft glow. Lydia didn't even pause to look through the nursery window at the rising sun as she plodded down the hallway, both eyes closed, her hand rubbing sleepily at one.

Finally, Lydia reached the bathroom and closed the door behind her( on the other side of the door, she could hear Buttons meowing plaintively and scratching at the door; had she been less tired, needed to pee leass, and was generally less pregnant, she'd have let her little buddy in, but as it was, she just plodded towards the toilet). When she thought she'd reached the toilet, she plopped down, hoping to God Marco had put the seat down( thankfully, this time he had; this had not been the case three months ago, when, in a similar, though less urgent predicament, she had fallen ass-first into the ice-cold toilet bowl, shocking the drowsiness- and pee- out of her. Naturally, she'd shouted for help, and when Marco arrived, he literally could not stop laughing, even as he helped her out. He was laughing so hard he could barely breathe. He'd slept on the couch that night.), and sighed in relief at the fact that she had made it in time. As she got up and flushed, carefully placing the lid own( something Marco absolutely refused to do), she went over to the sink and washed her hands, finally managing to pry her eyes open fully. She looked in the mirror(now Lydia, while a fairly pretty woman, was not vain in the slightest), and took in the bags under her eyes, and her untidy brown hair, at which point a very self-conscious thought had occurred to her.

I Look like hell.

Shortly thereafter, she remembered she had gotten up for a reason in addition to not wetting herself, but (thank you gravid senilis) she could not remember for the life of her what it was, until her rumbling stomach reminded her.

She was simply starving.
------------------------------------------------------------------------

An hour later, Lydia sat at the kitchen table, having somehow managed to feed Buttons, and brewed a pot of coffee( not for her of course; the doctor had clearly said no coffee. Some women suffered from not being able to smoke while pregnant; others would die for a drink. For lydia, it was the coffee she missed most of all; she needed it to be properly awake, and was never much for either of those other two things at any rate. Instead, she had a mug of tea, which barely had enough of a buzz to help if her foot was asleep.), and polished a stack of pancakes with, oddly enough, sour cream and syrup on them. She knew on a cerebral level how weird that was, but she couldn't help wanting it. Plus, she knew it might make Marco queasy when she told him, which was always fun ( she had gotten some serious mileage out of explaining to him exactly what the legendary "water" actually was). And speak of the devil...

"Morning, baby." Marco said brightly. "Or do I need to be more specific?" he joked. Lydia rolled her eyes at that, as it was the third time this week he'd made that joke. As she did so, she barely registered him lunging forward, and unbuttoning her red pajamas.

"H-hey!" she cried. "If I wasn't in the mood last night, what makes you think your chances are any better now?!" Suddenly she realized he had stopped unbuttoning at the top of her belly, as she dimly registered a soft thud behind her; Buttons had leapt onto the windowsill, and pressed himself up against the glass. The cat now stared out at a tiny blue bird roosting on the head of a somewhat large snowman, which Marco had made the previous day with the little boy next door. While it showed what a good father he would make, it also was a manifestation of the same issue as the incident three months ago, and what she knew was about to happen.

"Hey there you two, say hi to da-da! Say hi! C'mon! Da-da!" Marco said as he poked and tickled Lydia's belly, smiling. When one of the twins kicked, seemingly in response, Marco completely melted, his smile becoming an ear-to-ear grin. He quickly planted two kisses on her belly, and looked up at Lydia beaming. Unlike his wife, who had for the most part grown tired of the kicking(admittedly, it still made her feel warm and fuzzy from time to time, but never this early in the morning), Marco still thought of it as a wonderful, magical, joyous experience.

Of course, this glee was partly due to that selfsame issue: Marco was something of a manchild. Sure, he was clever and compassionate, but when it came down to it, some part of him had never grown up. While it was part of what made Lydia love him so, there were some times that it was at least as much annoying as it was cute; this was one of those times. On the floor next to the table was another of those times: that godawful sweater. After he finished pestering Lydia and the babies, he noticed the sweater.

The sweater itself was a garish thing, being a bright green, with the words "Babies' First Xmas" written on it(Lydia suspected it was custom made, as she had never seen one with the word "babies'", only "baby's"), and, on the part that would go over her belly, it had a crhistmas tree on it, with a star-shaped lightbulb which had a button on the back, that, when worn, would make it blink.

"Seriously?" Marco asked pleading. "You really won't wear it?"

"No." Lydia growled. "It's ridiculous."

"But you'd look adorable." Marco whined. "Plus Christmas is less than a week away."

"Yeah, and I'm due in less than three. With any luck, they'll decide to stop destroying my organs and come out early. That would be the best Christmas present ever." She looked down, hoping for some sort of sign that they had heeded her advice, but they didn't even so much as kick. "Traitors." she muttered. She looked up, and saw Marco.

He was giving her the face.

She knew she couldn't hold out much longer.

"Fine." "she sighed. "I'll wear it(Marco grinned again)! On Christmas, and not a day before!"

"But you have to at least try it on!" Marco said, continuing to give her "the face".

Lydia looked down at her belly. Nothing? No contractions?

"Damn it." she said as Marco picked up the sweater and handed it to her.

Description
Another (sorta)Christmas pthing( one more after this, due tomorrow-heh).

As for the order- top-left,top-right, bottom.

And more story text to go along with it. And, fuck is it long.
________________________________________________

Kick.

Kick.

Kick.

At the third kick, this time to her already overtaxed bladder, Lydia Molina woke up, after what seemed like a mere five minutes of sleep, although the clock revealed it had been four hours in total. It was a paradox; Lydia was always so tired nowadays, yet she could never get a good night's sleep; what with all the heartburn, and being unable to get comfortable, and the constant kicking, it was a miracle she got any sleep at all.

Lydia propped herself up in bed, as she yawned widely and stretched, her eyes watering. After she finished yawning, she managed to force one green eye open, so she'd be able to see her way down the hall towards the bathroom, and in the process, caught a glimpse of her husband Marco. He was still asleep, and why wouldn't he be? It was barely past six o' clock on a Wednesday morning, and seeing as the two were both moderately successful authors, neither of them had any office to go to, or classes to teach( anymore at any rate, thank God; Lydia's first bestseller had hit shelves two months previously, coinciding with the start of her maternity leave, and just in time too; she didn't think she could have taken another day of teaching a bunch of stuck-up little pissants and dumb jocks the values of Victorian poetry, all the while dealing with the rigors of being seven months pregnant with twins. It had just been too much.). He was curled up, apparently hugging his pillow again, and a thin strand of drool, barely visible in the early rays of dawn, was working its way down his chin. Typical; Lydia loved her husband dearly, he was brilliant and caring, but he was just so... goofy sometimes.

Lydia swung her legs around the edge of the bed, probing for her slippers, but failing to find them, she simply decided to leave them, and clambered out of bed awkwardly. As she did so, Marco slept sill, but another member of their little(not for too much longer, she hoped) family stirred. Their siamese cat, Buttons, with a grace and swiftness that far outmached her tired, pregnant owner, leapt out of bed, landing silently on the green carpet, and followed close on her heels, hoping to be fed.

As soon as Lydia shuffled half-blindly onto the ice-cold, bare ,wooden floorboards of the hall, she regretted being unable to get her slippers, but her view of the floor was greatly impeded at the present time, and her ability to bend over for a look similarly so. At any rate, the search was wasting precious seconds, and she had an urgent need to meet, which she desperately hoped to meet in time, as she certainly didn't want to have to wash her pajamas again. On her way down the hall, she passed by the newly furbished nursery with its door agape, in wich stood two matching cribs, one magenta, the other blue, side by side beneath a star mobile, which, when powered on, would spin slowly, and emit a soft glow. Lydia didn't even pause to look through the nursery window at the rising sun as she plodded down the hallway, both eyes closed, her hand rubbing sleepily at one.

Finally, Lydia reached the bathroom and closed the door behind her( on the other side of the door, she could hear Buttons meowing plaintively and scratching at the door; had she been less tired, needed to pee leass, and was generally less pregnant, she'd have let her little buddy in, but as it was, she just plodded towards the toilet). When she thought she'd reached the toilet, she plopped down, hoping to God Marco had put the seat down( thankfully, this time he had; this had not been the case three months ago, when, in a similar, though less urgent predicament, she had fallen ass-first into the ice-cold toilet bowl, shocking the drowsiness- and pee- out of her. Naturally, she'd shouted for help, and when Marco arrived, he literally could not stop laughing, even as he helped her out. He was laughing so hard he could barely breathe. He'd slept on the couch that night.), and sighed in relief at the fact that she had made it in time. As she got up and flushed, carefully placing the lid own( something Marco absolutely refused to do), she went over to the sink and washed her hands, finally managing to pry her eyes open fully. She looked in the mirror(now Lydia, while a fairly pretty woman, was not vain in the slightest), and took in the bags under her eyes, and her untidy brown hair, at which point a very self-conscious thought had occurred to her.

I Look like hell.

Shortly thereafter, she remembered she had gotten up for a reason in addition to not wetting herself, but (thank you gravid senilis) she could not remember for the life of her what it was, until her rumbling stomach reminded her.

She was simply starving.
------------------------------------------------------------------------

An hour later, Lydia sat at the kitchen table, having somehow managed to feed Buttons, and brewed a pot of coffee( not for her of course; the doctor had clearly said no coffee. Some women suffered from not being able to smoke while pregnant; others would die for a drink. For lydia, it was the coffee she missed most of all; she needed it to be properly awake, and was never much for either of those other two things at any rate. Instead, she had a mug of tea, which barely had enough of a buzz to help if her foot was asleep.), and polished a stack of pancakes with, oddly enough, sour cream and syrup on them. She knew on a cerebral level how weird that was, but she couldn't help wanting it. Plus, she knew it might make Marco queasy when she told him, which was always fun ( she had gotten some serious mileage out of explaining to him exactly what the legendary "water" actually was). And speak of the devil...

"Morning, baby." Marco said brightly. "Or do I need to be more specific?" he joked. Lydia rolled her eyes at that, as it was the third time this week he'd made that joke. As she did so, she barely registered him lunging forward, and unbuttoning her red pajamas.

"H-hey!" she cried. "If I wasn't in the mood last night, what makes you think your chances are any better now?!" Suddenly she realized he had stopped unbuttoning at the top of her belly, as she dimly registered a soft thud behind her; Buttons had leapt onto the windowsill, and pressed himself up against the glass. The cat now stared out at a tiny blue bird roosting on the head of a somewhat large snowman, which Marco had made the previous day with the little boy next door. While it showed what a good father he would make, it also was a manifestation of the same issue as the incident three months ago, and what she knew was about to happen.

"Hey there you two, say hi to da-da! Say hi! C'mon! Da-da!" Marco said as he poked and tickled Lydia's belly, smiling. When one of the twins kicked, seemingly in response, Marco completely melted, his smile becoming an ear-to-ear grin. He quickly planted two kisses on her belly, and looked up at Lydia beaming. Unlike his wife, who had for the most part grown tired of the kicking(admittedly, it still made her feel warm and fuzzy from time to time, but never this early in the morning), Marco still thought of it as a wonderful, magical, joyous experience.

Of course, this glee was partly due to that selfsame issue: Marco was something of a manchild. Sure, he was clever and compassionate, but when it came down to it, some part of him had never grown up. While it was part of what made Lydia love him so, there were some times that it was at least as much annoying as it was cute; this was one of those times. On the floor next to the table was another of those times: that godawful sweater. After he finished pestering Lydia and the babies, he noticed the sweater.

The sweater itself was a garish thing, being a bright green, with the words "Babies' First Xmas" written on it(Lydia suspected it was custom made, as she had never seen one with the word "babies'", only "baby's"), and, on the part that would go over her belly, it had a crhistmas tree on it, with a star-shaped lightbulb which had a button on the back, that, when worn, would make it blink.

"Seriously?" Marco asked pleading. "You really won't wear it?"

"No." Lydia growled. "It's ridiculous."

"But you'd look adorable." Marco whined. "Plus Christmas is less than a week away."

"Yeah, and I'm due in less than three. With any luck, they'll decide to stop destroying my organs and come out early. That would be the best Christmas present ever." She looked down, hoping for some sort of sign that they had heeded her advice, but they didn't even so much as kick. "Traitors." she muttered. She looked up, and saw Marco.

He was giving her the face.

She knew she couldn't hold out much longer.

"Fine." "she sighed. "I'll wear it(Marco grinned again)! On Christmas, and not a day before!"

"But you have to at least try it on!" Marco said, continuing to give her "the face".

Lydia looked down at her belly. Nothing? No contractions?

"Damn it." she said as Marco picked up the sweater and handed it to her.